After All This Time
by Damahom
Summary: Severus Snape is called to Dumbledore's office in the middle of the night. The headmaster is suspiciously absent, but a surprise is waiting for Severus in the form of a broken black ring. Oneshot.


Severus' eyes swept the headmaster's office. The hour was late, and Severus was uneasy; what Dumbledore had to say was obviously important for him to call at such an unusual time. Perhaps the Dark Lord knows...perhaps he has finally found out...

No. He shook his head and stiffly seated himself in an armchair in front of the headmaster's desk. It was impossible. He'd been too cautious. Even Minerva McGonagall was unsure of his loyalty to Dumbledore—her worried, furtive glances were not unnoticed by Severus when the headmaster divulged a particularly delicate piece of information—so how could the Dark Lord suspect?

His knuckles had gone pale from gripping the arms of the arms of the chair so tightly. He flexed his hands and replaced them to their former position, except this time with a carefully slackened grip. It was difficult to to feel fear in Dumbledore's office; it was as though the troubles of the outside halted at the stone gargoyles in the hall, and were further muffled by the loud buzz of various magical artifacts in the room. Severus took a deep breath, steadying breath.

For the most part, Severus remained in the armchair as the moments ticked by. He occasionally rose in agitation, paced a few times, and resumed his seat. A clock chimed one o'clock am. Nearly a quarter of an hour had gone by since Severus had been beckoned to the office by a squeaky house elf, and his fears began to ebb back into his mind.

"Headmaster's gone to bed," a voice grunted thickly, suddenly breaking the still silence.

"Impossible," Severus shot back sourly, directing his words towards a painting of a wrinkly, grey wizard on the wall. However, he did not fully doubt the old Headmaster's words. "He sent for me just moments ago."

"Don't get all huffy at me, I'm just telling you what I saw," the painting grumbled, shooting Severus a glare beneath his bushy eyebrows before pulling a nightcap over his eyes.

Severus pondered the painting's words. Had Dumbledore actually gone to bed? As the moments ticked on, it seemed more and more likely. Perhaps the curse was advancing faster than he and Dumbledore had anticipated. Perhaps Dumbledore had, indeed, called for Severus, but dozed off and forgot about it. Was the old man's mind already decaying?

Severus impatiently rose from his seat again, although this time it was not to pace, but to investigate the headmaster's desk. Perhaps there was a note, or a letter, or _any_ type of clue as to what was on Dumbledore's mind.

He squinted closely through the faded light, carefully resting his eyes on each object laid out on the desk. Dozens of quills, pieces of parchment neatly filed in stacks, a sinister-looking spindly object, a book laid open on its spine—

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a quick twinkle. In the darkness, Severus had easily missed the small, shiny black ring. This time, however, a candle flickered on the ring at the right moment, drawing his eye to the glimmer.

Severus picked up the ring, holding his breath. He had never seen Dumbledore remove it, even after the horrible curse had taken its toll. Why the old fool wanted to carry the skeleton of the curse around was beyond Severus' comprehension. Perhaps it was to remind himself of his inevitable death at the end of the year—but that seemed uncharacteristically morbid of the old man. Dumbledore needed no reminders, because he was well prepared; everything was planned out meticulously, even for the years following his own death.

The potions master tried not to dwell too long upon the mysteries of the ring. He had already puzzled over it enough in the past, trying to find a way to break the curse. He recently had taken to pushing the frustrating subject quickly from his mind before he became caught up in a headache.

He absently turned the ring around in his hands, enjoying the feeling of the hard smoothness, resuming his pacing trail back and forth in front of the headmaster's desk. The cracked stone was unnaturally cool against his skin, as though it itself were dead. Severus continued to pace, although his thoughts had become less restless. His mind was growing numb with drowsiness, and he longed for the headmaster to arrive so that he could return to the comforts of his bed. He would only wait a few more moments, and then resume the business in the morning. Not that Severus would be able to sleep through the night—his mind would inevitably be heavy with worry over whatever Dumbledore had to say.

Severus picked up the book he'd noticed on Dumbledore's desk and scanned through it, desperate for a distraction. He realized that it was a collection of well-known wizard fairy tales. This particular copy of _The Tales of Beetle Bard _was yellowing and tattered; it looked older than Dumbledore himself. The story Dumbledore had bookmarked was "The Tale of the Three Brothers." Severus continued to absently stroke the ring in his hand as he studied the book. It was so dilapidated that the words were almost illegible, and the problem was exacerbated by the plethora of notes in the margins that were written in Dumbledore's unmistakable loopy handwriting.

This struck Severus as odd. What would Dumbledore find in a book of common children's fantasies? He leaned closer, trying to discern the smudged writing in the margins.

"_I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment. There'll be great grease marks all over it, they won't be able to read a word!"_

His face growing hot with rage, Severus tore himself from the pages at the unbidden flashback to 16-year-old Sirius Black's words before he could study the book further. The memory assaulted him frequently when he read, especially small text that made him squint, like that which had been on the Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL.

Severus forgot all about the fantasy book for a moment. It caused him agony every time he thought back to that day on the lake, but he chose to open his mind to the memory because _she_ had been there. He clung on to every scene in his mind with Lily Potter, good and bad, because they were too precious to willingly forget. She was gone, and all he had left were his memories, and the boy's eyes.

He sank back into the chair and closed his eyes; they were threatening to brim over with tears, and he did not want Dumbledore to discover him in such a state. Severus breathed deeply and allowed his mind to wander from the terrible memory—James Potter and Sirius Black's cruel laughs echoing across the lake, and the look on Lily's face when Severus snapped at her—to a more pleasant one, during summer holiday, when he had Lily Evans all to himself, without Potter and his friends poking around all the time.

_Lily had sat next to him, her shoulder comfortably resting against his. He tried desperately to focus on what she was saying about their Advanced Charms homework that was due on the first of September, but her proximity was distracting. He could not look at her without conspicuously turning his head, so instead he sat and enjoyed her gentle scent, her warm pressure on his arm, and the bright sun on his face._

"—_can't find the spell anywhere. Can you, Sev? ...Sev?"_

_Severus snapped out of his daze, his mind working slowly._

"_Sorry, what was that?"_

"_The liquid transfer spells!" she exclaimed, exasperated, her brows raised above those eyes. "We're supposed to at least know the spell that turns vinegar to wine but—"_

"_Just shut up for two seconds," Severus sighed, smiling lazily, his mind foggy from the hot summer day._

_Her small nostrils flared and her green eyes blazed._

"_What did you just say to me?"_

"_Come here and just relax," he said, giving her a sidelong grin and leaning back onto the ground. _

_Severus was sure that the only reason she'd obeyed and laid in the grass next to him was pure shock. He hardly ever spoke to her so boldly._

"_We have an entire year to worry about that," he groaned through a yawn, stretching his arms above his head on the ground. "Plus it's an easy charm...you'll get it in a few tries."_

_Without looking, he knew Lily was modestly trying to hide her satisfied smile._

"_You're in a good mood today, Sev," she commented after a few moments of comfortable silence._

_He propped himself on his elbow so he could turn to look at her. Lily's eyes were closed peacefully and her red hair fanned out around her head in stunning contrast to the green grass._

"_I suppose so," he said slowly, reeling himself in a bit. He wasn't sure where his sudden burst of elation had come from, but he was beginning to feel embarrassed about it._

_Her eyes flew open, smiling at him. "I like it. You're always so serious."_

_He was close enough to her face that he could feel her sweet, small puffs of breath._

"_I'd rather be serious than act like a buffoon all the time like Potter and his friends," Severus asserted, perhaps a bit too defensively._

"_I didn't mean anything by it," Lily said, sitting up and looking less at ease._

"_Sorry," Severus mumbled quickly, hoping she wouldn't decide to turn in for the day._

"_I suppose you have a lot to be serious about," she said softly, looking down on him sadly. His breath caught in his throat as she reached forward and pushed his stringy hair from his eyes. He didn't know what to say, so he just looked back at her, waiting for her to move. She tilted her head as she studied him, and she moved her finger from his hair to caress the side of his face in one soft, slow stroke. He continued to hold his breath, terrified that if he moved the moment would be lost..._

"_LILY, MUM SAYS YOU HAVE TO HELP WITH DINNER!"_

_Both Severus and Lily leapt apart at Petunia's screech that echoed through the neighborhood. The source was nowhere in sight, but regardless Severus jumped up and quickly strode back toward his house, too embarrassed to even give Lily a farewell glance._

"Lily Evans," Severus breathed in agony. Agitated by the memory, he resumed his pacing yet again, anything to distract from the tears more forcefully threatening to fall from behind his eyes. He turned the stone in his hand over and over, feeling restless and fidgety.

"Sev?"

A soft, cautious voice came from behind Severus. He turned quickly and squinted in the dimmed office, expecting to find a painting waiting to deliver word from Dumbledore. As he scanned the shadows, he realized there was a bodily figure in the office with him.

"Who are you?" Severus hissed, not wasting a moment and pulling out his wand. As he thought the command, his wand illuminated, and suddenly he was staring into the pallid face of Lily Evans.

The figure's lips moved, but Severus could not hear what it said; a rushing sound filled his ears, and he fell to his knees, letting his wand slip from his right hand. In his left, he clutched the black ring so tightly that it dug into his skin.

The figure stepped closer, becoming better illuminated in the wand light. Severus could not think of moving, but could only watch in awe. Even if the apparition was some kind of trap, he wouldn't have cared—it resembled _her_ so closely that he never wanted to stop looking. Her lips parted into the sad smile she had given him so many times, and her hips swayed in their casually elegant way, and her large eyes were fixated on his expectantly, as though she were waiting for him to explain her potions homework.

She stopped within an arms reach from him, and Severus could see that some details were off. Although she was not quite translucent, there was a temporary, wispy look to her being. Her hair was not a vibrant red, but a muted orange. Her skin, while always having been a natural white-ivory, was more of a greying-parchment. And her eyes lacked the irradiance that had made them so captivating in life. Lily was certainly _there_, but it was as though she was constantly banished to stand in shadows.

"Y-you," Severus managed to choke out. His throat had gone dry.

The figure nodded and kneeled down, so that they were face-to-face.

"I can tell you don't believe," she said, smiling. Her voice rang just as it always had, although it contained whispery, distant undertones. "It _is_ me, Sev."

Severus closed his eyes for a moment, relishing the sound of his name on her tongue. It elicited a sad, deep nostalgia. He only closed his eyes for a quick moment, however—he did not want to waste time he could spend gazing upon her.

"How?" His voice came out clipped and severe as he forced his vocal chords to work.

She reached out her hand and brushed her fingers against his fist that held the cursed ring. Her touch was light—he felt a pressure, although it lacked the warmth and substance of a human.

He looked to her face, expecting her to elaborate, and was taken aback to see that it was wet with tears. He had not expected her—the apparition—to act so humanly.

"The stone," she said in a thick voice. "The Resurrection Stone."

In an instant he understood. The Stone from the well-known Beetle Bard story marked off on Dumbledore's desk. Dumbledore had somehow known what the ring was. He left it for Severus, to share with him. Severus could ponder the details of the situation later, but for the moment all that mattered was that he knew and understood that Lily Potter was truly standing in front of him.

Shakily, Severus rose from the floor, taking hold of his wand again in the process. He clutched the stone even more tightly to his palm, terrified to lose the precious gift. Lily rose with him, and stared at him with the same unabashed awe that he himself felt.

"I'm sorry," he said abruptly, feeling a weight in his chest. He was choking on his words through tears and gasps suddenly. "I was the one who—who—the p-prophecy...I-t-t-tried to—stop him...Dumbledore said—was too late..."

Severus tried to take deep breaths to make his words legible, but they only resulted in shuddering sobs. Lily became blurry beneath his tears, and he furiously wiped at his face. He had to get the words out—who knows how long he had?

"Oh Sev," she sighed, now quietly weeping as well. Through his tears he saw her lean forward to embrace him. He felt a pressure envelop him, and he put his arms around the solidness of Lily's form, but there was no comfort in the hug. It lacked the warmth and fragrance that he'd remembered from Lily's hugs. He felt the pressure shaking against him as Lily heaved sobs on his shoulder—but his shoulder remained unnaturally dry, whereas years and years ago Lily had once soaked his robes through in the same spot when Petunia had refused to send Lily a happy birthday owl.

Lily pulled away, and Severus was relieved. Her touch was insubstantial, and only made him long for her more; he would rather spend this time looking at her.

"I'm sorry," he managed to mumble. His voice shuddered, but he had finally mastered himself enough to form coherent words. "I'm sorry—for it all."

"No, Sev," Lily shook her head and smiled shakily. "I've seen what you're doing for Harry. I know that you tried to stop it."

His face became warm when Lily mentioned her son's name. She had seen it all, he realized. She had seen the way he tortured the boy, making his life as miserable as possible—

"I've been despicable," he growled, hotly ashamed of himself. Severus suddenly couldn't stand to meet her eyes. "He looks too much like _Potter_. I—I just—I can't—"

A pressure under his chin forced him to look back to Lily's face.

"James was horrendous to you," Lily said softly, a hint of apology to her tone. Severus noticed that her eyes flickered away from his for a moment as she'd said her husband's name. "Who could expect you to love his son? I know you care for him, in your own way."

"I am weak—"

"It's been for the best," Lily said in a tone that suggested a finality to the topic. "You've played your part well to Voldemort and his followers."

Severus nodded absently, although he still squirmed under her gaze.

They fell silent for a moment. Severus desperately tried to sort through his mind to find the perfect words to say, but he fell short. His head felt hollow, and he could only focus on the face in front of him.

"Severus," Lily mumbled suddenly, looking down at her hands and picking at them as she had done in life when she was uncomfortable, "I-I'd hoped better for your life. You seem so terribly lonely."

"It _has _been a lonely life," he admitted. "I want no one else. I deserve no happiness. Not after—"

"No," Lily interrupted, reaching out for his face. He felt the pressure, and her face flickered with disappointment for a moment. Severus realized that she must not feel any human sensation, either. She let her hand drop.

"Don't say that," she pleaded.

"_You_," Severus croaked out, his eyes brimming with tears again, "_you_ were my life. Even after Hogwarts, when I didn't see you, just knowing you were there, somewhere..."

His throat became painfully tight, and Lily was shaking her head with tears in her eyes.

"My duty to the boy—to _Harry_—that is what fulfills me," he said in a low voice. She nodded and smiled, and Severus was pleased that she looked consoled. He'd caused her enough pain for a lifetime and could not bear to cause more.

He reached out to stroke her hair but was met with more disappointment: he could feel the tickling of each strand, but not the warmth and softness that once had been.

"The Stone has been damaged," Lily said suddenly, clearing her throat at an attempt to resume a normal voice. "I don't have much longer—"

Instinctively, Severus held out the ring in his palm so he could get a better look. There was a deep crack down the middle from where Dumbledore had broken the curse. He looked up to Lily, and gasped when he could see the outline of the office through her head. She was beginning to fade.

"Not enough time," Severus whispered sadly. His mind raced and raced, trying to find more things to tell her, he'd waited all these years...

"I'll be around," Lily said with a playful wink. She'd always done that to comfort Severus. "And I'll see you around again, eventually."

"What's it like?" Severus breathed. A bookshelf behind her was becoming sharper and sharper, and Lily was more difficult to see.

"Death? It's..." She looked thoughtful and licked her lips. Her voice sounded distant, as though she were speaking to him through the other side of a door. "Well, I suppose you'll have to find out for yourself one day." She winked again.

"_Lily_," Severus moaned desperately. His hand reached forward, and she reached to meet his, but by the time their fingers met, she had fully faded.

Severus stood for a few moments, shining his wand light on the spot he had last seen her, ensuring that she had definitely gone. He suddenly felt weak and exhausted, and the skin on his face felt crusty from where his tears had dried. The ring in his hand was no longer cool and comforting to him; it had made a painful indent in his palm. He walked over to the headmaster's desk and placed the cracked piece of stone on top of the crumbling book of tales so that it wouldn't blend in with the rest of the desk, and Dumbledore would be able to more easily find it in the morning.

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**A/N**: If you were one of my awesome followers of my Prequel story, I'M BACK (with a new username). If you're new, hello there :)

I said this elsewhere, but I'm working on another marauder story called Time Turner Travels—the first few chapters had been published a while ago, but it received mediocre reviews, and was in much need of editing, so once I'm done perfecting the first 10 chapters or so I'll go ahead and publish. In the meantime, hope you enjoyed this one. Let me know in the reviews :)


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